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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103424">Spiral Storytime with Helen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/grinningCalamity/pseuds/grinningCalamity'>grinningCalamity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Body Horror, Fluff, No Plot/Plotless, Oh also, again just mentioned but ill tag it just in case, i mean just because I describe Helen's funky anatomy a couple of times, rated teen for mentions of strip card games, this is just a piece of a larger story i'll probably never write, we need more of helen affectionately bullying jon imo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:08:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103424</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/grinningCalamity/pseuds/grinningCalamity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen and Jon have a chat.</p><p>Alternate Title: Girl's Night</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Spiral Storytime with Helen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>OKAY so this is honestly just a snippet of a daydream story I've been working on?? and it's actually like. fanfic of another tma fic kind of hjfghj<br/>so yeah there's no context for this; just take it as it is<br/>I was having fun imagining it so I thought I'd write it and then it turned out cute so I thought I'd post it<br/>I probably won't write more of this, but who knows?? Let me know if you like it and maybe I'll elaborate??? And if I do elaborate, then I'll drop the name of the fic this is working off of jgrthjgtr but right now it's so not even relevant that I. idk it just really doesn't matter to this little snippet so yeah</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“...for a few weeks- or, years?”</p><p>Helen cast a disgruntled expression towards Jon. “Human time is so… weird. I don’t get it. What are you <em> counting? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it’s, ah, you’re not, really counting- that is- you know, I’d have thought- fractals are, are sort of your ‘thing’, right? Patterns being cut infinitely smaller? And it’s sort of like that- you have, uh, the day- a sun cycle- and you, you cut it in two, and then, each of those two into twelve, each of those into sixty, then sixty again… and so on.” Jon floundered slightly, he’d admit. ‘Teaching eldritch chaos monsters how human measurements of linear time work’ had not appeared in his job description, all that time ago when Elias had… promoted him.</p><p> </p><p>Helen was staring at him. Then she shifted downwards, letting her shoulders slump and her arms dangle so her too-long fingers scraped the ground (as much as there was a ground). “I don’t get it,” She groaned.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s- you know what, it’s not likely to- come up. For you. Don’t… worry about it.” He glanced awkwardly towards the others, who were watching their conversation. He cleared his throat. “It was, ah… six months, though. For… clarity’s sake.”</p><p> </p><p>Helen straightened up, watching him closely. “Is that… a long time?”</p><p> </p><p>Jon hesitated, grappling first with whether the question was even worth answering, and then with how he was supposed to do so. “It was more… um… well, time, uh. There wasn’t a real, sense, of time… passing? It was… it was just <em> now </em> . And <em> always </em>. And… it was forever, it felt like. Every moment was forever within itself. Like, ah… the opposite of Zeno's Paradox, but achieving the same end. When you string infinite forevers together… do you ever… go anywhere?” He was suddenly acutely aware that this had to make absolutely no sense to the onlookers, and as his attention snapped back out of his own head, he noticed that Helen was shifting again.</p><p>She was… shorter, now? She seemed to have lost several feet of height, and when he looked down- oh. No, she was just… sitting. He watched mutely as she carefully tucked and folded her impossibly spindly limbs under and around each other, until she was situated in some vague mockery of a cross-legged position. Then her head snapped up, eyes wide with anticipation as they locked onto his face.</p><p>“...What are you doing.” Not a question, just a statement of confusion.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m <em> sitting </em>, Archivist. Criss-cross-applesauce.” She gave him a toothy grin, and he tried to ignore how it spiraled inwards at the corners and the unpleasantness that gnawed at his stomach because of it.</p><p> </p><p>“I- yes, Helen, I can see that. Why are you sitting.” This was technically a question, yes, but from how flat his voice stayed the whole time, you certainly wouldn’t have been able to tell.</p><p> </p><p>Her grin widened, and the spiraling corners tightened their coils. “Well, we already had Spiral Storytime with Helen. Now it’s… Beholding Book Club. With the Archivist.” She folded her hands expectantly in her lap.</p><p> </p><p>Jon stared uncomprehending for a few moments, the meaning failing to register. “I don’t-”</p><p> </p><p>“And do the voice!” Helen cut in quickly, eagerly.</p><p> </p><p>“...The voice.”</p><p> </p><p>“The story voice!”</p><p> </p><p>Another second passed, and then it clicked. “I- No- Helen. I’m not giving <em> you </em> a, a <em> Statement </em> , about my <em> supernatural coma-- </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> What?! </em>” Squawked his double, not very gracefully.</p><p>Both of them elected to ignore the interruption.</p><p> </p><p>“But I like the voice! It’s fun! It’s a good storyteller voice!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not- I don’t- when could you have even <em> possibly </em> heard me reading Statements?”</p><p> </p><p>The pout dropped from Helen’s face. Her expression was completely serious as she leveled direct eye contact with him and replied, “Girl’s Night.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a moment of dead silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Girl’s Night,” Jon repeated slowly.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what I said.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what…” He folded one arm under the other, pressing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose, sending his glasses slightly askew. “...is Girl’s Night.”</p><p> </p><p>Helen stared at him for a long time, seeming to study every detail of his face and posture.</p><p>Finally, after what felt like an eternity of nothing, she answered calmly.</p><p>“I can’t tell you.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> What. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“No boys allowed.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Helen </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head dramatically. “Girl’s Night in the Archives is a sacred event. You would disrupt it and ruin everything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Helen. Please. What is Girl’s Night in the Archives.”</p><p> </p><p>Helen narrowed her swirling eyes, glaring coldly at him, considering. “If I tell you,” She began. “If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t crash it and ruin the fun.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, well, now you’re making me a bit anxious.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Promise. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine!” Jon threw his arms up briefly in frustration and surrender. “Fine. I won’t... crash Girl’s Night and ruin the fun. I promise. Alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Helen giggled. It was more of a cackle, really, but comparing it to her usual raucous laughter, he felt comfortable assessing it as a giggle. She tapped her fingers together in front of her face. “De-light-ful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Am I going to regret this?” Jon asked wearily.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, how would I know?” She asked, already half lost in thought. “Now hush. I have to explain.</p><p>“It was the Hunter’s idea originally, actually. Although I believe it ended up… very different from what she had originally intended.” Helen giggled again, like she was in on a secret joke. Which, to be fair, she apparently was. “<em> She </em> wanted to stake out the Institute for the night. Keep an <em> eye </em> on everything (so to speak); make sure nobody was doing anything… heinous or untoward.” She paused a moment to gather her thoughts. “But Melanie brought alcohol and card games.” The grin that literally split her face at the memory was beyond Cheshire.</p><p> </p><p>Jon worked his mouth quietly for a moment without actually saying anything, waiting for the words to catch up with him. “So… Girl’s Night is…”</p><p> </p><p>This time, Helen cackled fully. “Drunk game night with your female assistants and yours truly!”</p><p> </p><p>“...How- How many-”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, it’s only happened twice so far.” Helen waved him off with one needle-like hand. “But there may have been a certain amount of… eavesdropping, on both occasions.”</p><p> </p><p>“...You were listening in on me recording statements.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“While drunk.”</p><p> </p><p>“And half-naked!”</p><p> </p><p>“And- what?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Melanie and I got into a game of strip Garbage.”</p><p> </p><p>“...Strip Garbage.”</p><p> </p><p>“Every round the loser has to-”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes </em>, Helen, I know how strip card games work.”</p><p> </p><p>She snickered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your… companions.”</p><p> </p><p>“I… frankly, I’ve embarrassed myself in front of all of these people so many times that I’m not sure it even matters anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>They lapsed into a mostly-comfortable silence.</p><p> </p><p>“...I did promise I wouldn’t interrupt Girl’s Night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you did.”</p><p> </p><p>“But if you tell me when you’re doing it, I’ll try to find a handful of ridiculous statements to record that night. If I can’t stop you from listening in, I might as well try to make it… interesting to listen to.”</p><p> </p><p>Helen looked up at him and absolutely beamed.</p><p>The spirals at the corners of her smile were noticeably less tightly wound.</p><p>Or was it just him?</p>
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